


Incredible Cosmic Power

by FairythePigeon (Me_aGlorifiedPigeon)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: American History Rewritten RIP to you Real America but Fantasy America's different, Blackmail, Coercion, Djinni & Genies, Emotional Manipulation, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Character Death, Odd Soul Shenanigans, Past Character Death, Suicide Attempt, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, Virgil is Special, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22292323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Me_aGlorifiedPigeon/pseuds/FairythePigeon
Summary: Virgil awakens three genies while cleaning up the stuff in the antique pawn shop he works at. He would rather set them free then deal with the headache they'll probably give him, but they pull him into an adventure anyway.After all, one of these genies has a missing boyfriend, which is apparently more important than poor Virgil's peace of mind.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, DLAMP endgame, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 85
Kudos: 274





	1. A Djinn of Love

"Happy birthday, Dorian," Mother said. She and Father only ever looked at him coldly.

"Your godfather got you a gift," Father stated. D blinked, raising his eyebrows.

"Mother only made Remus my godfather because she wanted him under supervision," D stated. He'd never even met his supposed godfather. "We don't exactly have any kind of relationship."

"Yes, well, he insisted. Something about twenty one being an important number, and all," Father sighed. D furrowed his brow. The car came to a stop and Mother and Father looked away from him. Ah, yes. He was supposed to exit now and not see them for another few weeks, until the full moon.

He slipped out of the car and stared up at the building. He knew his godfather's name and apartment number. Mother went there near weekly to check on the man.

So, he went straight up to the sixth floor and walked right up to the sixty six apartment. Wow. Incredibly on the nose, Mother.

He knocked on the door and it swung open before he could even finish it.

Behind the door was a wild looking man with messy dark curls and a sun starved brown face. The man grinned almost maniacally.

"You're Dorian, right?" Remus asked, and D frowned.

"It's D. And you must be Remus, my godfather," D said. Remus snickered.

"As much as I could be, but we both know your mother isn't going into the next life without her own say so," Remus snorted unpleasantly. "Come in, come in, don't let the rats out!"

"Excuse me, the what?" D asked, as he entered the apartment.

"The rats! Oh, they're lovely little feral things. I think they nibbled on my ears a bit the last time I died! They've been here since, you know, pleasant company and all that!" Remus babbled. His wrists jangled with the sound of too many bracelets, and his neck was heavily laden with various talisman pendants. He had a bit of an accent, though where it was from specifically D couldn't say. It sounded a little Eastern European, with a hint of African, and just the slightest smidge of South Indian.

"Just how much have you died?" D asked, raising his eyebrows. Remus snorted.

"Oh, well over a hundred. I've been around a very long time, you know. I've been around the block a few times- hah! The chopping block too! Do you know what it's like to reattach your own head?" Remus asked, and he looked over at D with a deranged look in his wide eyes.

"Is that how you got that scar?" D asked, noticing the rough and torn looking skin of the man's neck.

"Oh, you're a clever boy! Yes, I died six times that afternoon, haha! But ol' Remus has a little secret, ol' Remus won't  _ truly _ die until he's rescued his brother. That's right! God, I was a smart one, whatever happened," Remus froze and went still for a lone minute, staring across the room at a copper based mirror. D frowned at it.

"Shouldn't you have silver mirrors? To keep the vampires at bay?" D asked.

Remus snorted, an ugly, likely painful sound. "Why would I want to keep the vampires at bay? They're awfully nice, and they can't turn or kill me, I've checked!"

D could only stare at his godfather in disbelief. "You've willingly met with vampires? They don't have souls." -D waved at his face. -"Witches can tell that sort of thing."

"Well, they're good company, and I'm immortal," Remus shrugged. "Not many others I can hang around with that would get it, you know?"

D rolled his eyes. "I suppose not. Mother and Father dropped me off to pick up a gift?"

"Oh! Yes, yeah, the lamp!" Remus exclaimed. He scurried towards the hallway, and D made to follow. Three rats ran past him, and Remus burst out of a room with an ancient looking oil lamp in his hands.

D raised his eyebrows, but he tried not to look too in awe. "You found a djinn?"

"Yes!" Remus grinned. "Not the right one, unfortunately, and Miss Dragon Bitch made sure I couldn't use their magic millenia ago, but yes, this is a djinn!"

D accepted the lamp as it was passed into his hands.

"Happy twenty first!" Remus cheered.

"Thank you," D said, slipping the lamp under his coat. "I'll be off, Mother and Father dragged me here just before my shift."

"Good lie," Remus snorted. "I've still got some sense, D, I know you just want to leave. Well, have fun with your genie. I'm sure you know all about how they mince words."

D smirked. Maybe Remus wasn't quite as bad as the actual family. He made his way back to his own home, taking note that Mother and Father were now long gone.

In the safety of his own home, he pulled the lamp out of his coat and looked it over. It was old, yes, but Remus had clearly gone out of his way to clean and polish it. The brass glittered as D turned it over in his home, studying the scalloped patterns.

He carefully placed his fingers at the base of the lamp, the spout pointed away from him, and rubbed.

The room instantly filled with light blue mist, and a figure stretched out before him. A man with long wavy curls, simple robes, and thick but elegant shackles on his wrists. He had skin burnt a deep brown by the sun, and eyes that shimmered with an electric blue magic.

"A new master of the lamp! My name is Patton, what can I do ya for?" The genie asked.

"Well, you can just call me D. I'll be your master for quite a while yet, so I'd like to know the rules, please," D smiled.

Patton perched on top of D's lamp, somehow weightless despite the solid appearance to his form.

"I'll tell you all the rules you need to know, kiddo!" Patton grinned brightly.

"None of that," D said with a smile. "I'm a fully grown adult as of today, you know."

"Oh, happy birthday!" Patton exclaimed, looking delighted at the fact. D looked at his hands as Patton squealed. No one had ever made such a fuss. "Okay, okay, I'll make you a birthday present right now! Think of something you want!"

"Don't I need to make a wish?" D asked.

"Well, usually yes, but this is a gift from me to you," Patton said. He floated over to D, resting his chin on his arms as he hovered. "A good faith freebie."

D grinned. "Oh, but you're already my birthday gift, Patton. And a wonderful one you are, I've never felt so cared for."

Patton frowned, and his hand stroked over D's head. "That sounds awful, D."

"It's truly fine. I'll simply be glad for your company," D said. Patton smiled dazzlingly.

"I'd love to keep you company, D!"


	2. These Walls Can Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil shoplifts!

Virgil was alone with the antiques again, and today he felt like actually being good at his job for once in his pathetically unproductive life.

In the past, he'd just run a quick wipe over any flat surface to disturb any dust. Today, he had woken up in an antsy little mood, his entire body aching to do something helpful. He'd done the dishes that had been stacking up for two weeks- he was grateful he didn't have a roommate- he'd showered for the first time in four days, and he'd finally decided to go shopping for food after work today.

So, he felt like if he didn't do his job properly today, he'd probably get a stern talking to from Dr. Picani. Well, he always got a stern talking to from Dr. Picani, but the man never threatened Virgil's job. He just had him redo the training every now and again. Virgil was constantly grateful towards Dr. Picani, and today he wanted to make him proud. For once.

Virgil grabbed the duster, tucked a bottle of bleach wipes under his arm, and turned on his music, tuning out the world as his headphones blaster MCR at an… ill advised volume.

The first things to get cleaned up were the large pieces of furniture. Virgil ran the duster over the upholstery, rubbed a few wipes over the wooden frames, and made sure to take note of any tears to repair later. He lost himself to the monotony rather quickly, as the beat danced through him, the lyrics mumbled on his lips.

Then came the storage. Anything that hadn't been sold in years got stored here, as well as a box of new pieces. After all,  _ Something Old, Something New _ accepted "donations" from everyone who had an heirloom to sell. Dr. Picani had hired a skilled appraiser to price everything and make sure it was genuine- if it wasn't genuine, Dr. Picani merely shrugged and sent it off to Goodwill.

Virgil loved being surrounded by history. Everything had a story to tell, and Virgil could almost hear it. He'd never told anyone, but whenever someone had said "if these walls could speak", Virgil could  _ hear them _ . The entire world was abuzz, even the concrete under his feet had a memory.

Which was why he had to tune out the antique shop while he was cleaning. Mostly because he got sound bites in his head of the previous times they'd been cleaned. He'd heard enough maids gossiping about the inappropriate sex their bosses had had on odd pieces of furniture for an eternity.

It was the world's dumbest power, to be completely honest, but Virgil loved it. Finding an arrowhead and hearing  _ “goddammit, Henry, you missed! If you don’t find the arrow, Mother will have our heads, those things are expensive! _ ” was honestly one of Virgil’s favorites. Not that he could tell anyone about what he heard.

Unfortunately, there were drawbacks too. He’d spent many a museum field trip covering his ears and rocking in a corner of new objects, because all the ancient things kept whispering all their stories at once. He never did get docked for the museum assignments he couldn’t finish.

So, the antique store was nice- sometimes. He never went into the storage room without his music, of course. Those things tended to be older pottery and knick knacks, and he didn’t want to catch all the random conversation they picked up.

He entered the storage room, muttering the lyrics of his favorite song whilst rubbing some wipes over each knick knack. He carefully picked up a little angel shaped paper weight and wiped it clean.

He picked up the next knick knack as the chorus hit, and he closed his eyes to sing the lyrics and immerse himself in the song. A small brass lamp with a scalloped pattern across the surface. Baby blue smoke poured out of the spout, pointed over Virgil’s shoulder. He moved on to the next, his eyes still closed as he placed it down. It hadn’t been very dusty. Maybe Dr. Picani had just received it through a donation.

Virgil’s eyes opened briefly, as his fingers brushed what felt like a  _ god awful _ amount of dust, and he grimaced at the sight of his task. He picked it up and began to scrub, screwing his eyes shut to ignore whatever odd sticky substance he was scrubbing away.

He didn’t notice the crimson smoke pouring out the spout, too absorbed in scrubbing it clean. Then he placed it back down on the shelf and paused. A… third lamp? Where were they coming from? Wouldn’t a museum be a better place for these things? He picked it up, noticing that nothing sticky had landed on it, like the second one, and he began to clean it curiously.

Dark blue smoke streamed out, and Virgil dropped the lamp immediately. Oh god, please don’t be what he was thinking. A figure spun out of the smoke, and looked at him with an unimpressed gaze.

Virgil tugged his head phones off his head and stared at the genie in front of him with his jaw hanging open.

“Oh, finally!” A voice burst out, and Virgil jumped, whirling around to look behind him. Two more figures stood there, hovering in the air, red and baby blue smoke curling around them. The one who’d spoken was dressed in a white facsimile of a military uniform from the earliest of the eighteen hundreds, while the one next to him looked like a normal modern age man. Virgil turned back to the first genie, navy smoke curling around his ancient looking robes.

“Oh god, how did this happen?” Virgil demanded.

“You’re the one who rubbed our lamps,” The soldier genie scowled.

“I’m cleaning! It’s my job!” Virgil exclaimed.

“Yes, well it’s  _ our _ job to grant you wishes. So go on, out with it,” The genie in the ancient robes said.

“I don’t have any wishes!” Virgil cried out. “My life is hard enough without having painted a goddamn  _ target _ on my back for every witch in a thousand mile radius to see by summoning  _ three genies _ !”

“I’m so  _ sorry _ we’re  _ inconveniencing _ you,” the military genie said with a sarcastic weight to the words.

“Where are we?” The genie who didn’t look torn out of time asked. He gasped, his eyes going wide. “How long have I been in the lamp? Where’s my last Master?”

“Does it matter? We have a new master,” The ancient genie pointed out. Virgil grimaced.

“Of course it matters! D needs me, I promised him I’d keep him company! We spent five years together, I have to find him!” The baby blue genie cried out.

“He wished to tether you to him?” The ancient genie asked. The military genie gasped, as if such a thing were a horrible thing to even think of.

“No! You think he would- how dare you! D would never!”

Virgil’s heart was beating too quickly, and his breath was coming in short bursts. What could he do? What if witches came after him in his sleep? Good  _ god _ , how much longer did he have? Could he mitigate this somehow? What would he tell Dr. Picani!?

Wait- Dr. Picani. Cartoons. Aladdin! Of course!

“I wish to free you all!” Virgil announced, and all three genies looked at him in surprise.

The military genie laughed. “Yes! Yes, of course, wish granted, thank the gods-”

“Wait, no! Why would you wish that!?” The ancient genie cried out.

“Not until I know what happened to D!” The third genie shouted.

The military genie stopped short. “Why can’t I grant this wish?”

All three genies looked at each other, and Virgil watched as the ancient genie looked frustrated and resigned, the military genie looked utterly devastated, and the third looked absolutely delighted. He spun in a delighted circle in the air.

“It’s my wish!” He exclaimed happily. “We’re going in order!”

“Then grant it!” Virgil protested. The genie shook his head.

“Nope! First we have to figure out what happened to D. I’m not granting  _ any _ wishes until we find D, I promised I’d be there for him,” The genie insisted. The ancient genie scowled and cursed in Latin. Virgil raised his eyebrows. The other one groaned.

“What’s so special about this D character, anyway? He’s just another mortal master, they all die anyway,” the military genie pouted.

“He’s important! D is just- he’s just special!” The third genie pouted. The military genie gasped, and conjured a bright red rose.

“I see, the both of you were courting!”

“What!? No!”

The ancient looking genie sighed and turned to Virgil. “My modern name is Logan. Derived from Logos, a moniker I took for myself more than a millennia ago.”

“I’m Virgil,” Virgil managed. He  _ hated _ this.

The military genie gasped, and spun around, instantly conjuring golden adornments that made him glitter under the white lights in the storage room. “I am Roman! It’s a name I chose shortly after I discovered the Holy Roman Empire, I thought it was quite charming.”

“Oh, I’m  _ so sorry _ , Kiddo, I was distracted- I’m Patton!” The third genie informed.

“So, how can I help you find D as soon as possible so I can get rid of you all?” Virgil demanded.

“Oh- well, I didn’t know the year when I left him, but we were together for nearly five years, and he said I came to him in 2015?” Patton informed. Virgil snorted.

“Then you haven’t been apart from him too long, a few months at most. Do you know his full name? When did you last see him?” Virgil asked, pulling out the ledger. They had all the donations written inside it.

“Well, we were separated, I know that. He told me he’d gotten on the wrong side of his mother,” Patton informed.

“So we’re definitely helping him follow his ridiculous whims and fancy?” Logan huffed. “Fantastic, good to know.”

“So do you know how close he is to whoever last had your lamp?” Virgil asked, spotting the name beside the description.  _ Remy Sonoris _ . Goddamn it, that blood sucking, money draining leech? As much as Virgil appreciated Dr. Picani, he  _ did not _ appreciate his boyfriend.

“No. I suspect he wouldn’t know them at all,” Patton informed. He looked desperately sad as he realized how difficult finding D might be.

“Fear not, Patton!” Roman cried out. “We will not rest until we find your lover, that I promise you!”

“Thank you, Roman,” Patton said with a small smile.

“Oh, do  _ not _ drag me into this,” Logan scowled. “I am here to grant wishes and grant wishes  _ only _ .”

“Yes, but you can’t grant wishes until Patton and I do, which means we’re all in this together,” Roman huffed, and Logan rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Virgil sighed. “How about D’s mother? You said he got on her bad side?”

“You should never feel threatened by your own mother,” Roman scowled. Patton nodded agreement. He drifted through the air and perched himself on the storage room desk beside the ledger.

“D’s mother isn’t exactly anyone I would expect to have become a mother. She’s one of those witches that kidnaps young children and saps their life force to become young again. She’s been alive longer than  _ I _ have,” Patton murmured.

Virgil swallowed. “You’re asking me, a guy now tied to  _ three genies _ , to investigate  _ witches _ !?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask! I just need you to help me look for him, okay?” Patton pleaded.

“Can’t you do it yourself?” Virgil asked uncomfortably.

“We can’t get very far away from our lamps. You’d have to take us around if we wanted to do any proper investigating,” Logan said. Virgil groaned.

“So why don’t you want me to wish you free?” Virgil demanded. “Sounds like that could solve at least two problems!”

“But what if he’s in trouble!?” Patton cried out. “I can’t help him if I’m an ordinary mortal again!”

“I agree with Patton! We should rescue D before you rescue us,” Roman announced.

“I don’t need any rescuing,” Logan stated. “I like my lamp and would prefer to remain a genie.”

Virgil sighed. “We can figure all that out later. For now, we have a lead. We should talk to Remy about where he got your lamp.”

“You know this guy?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I do, yes. Remy’s a registered vampire who comes around whenever Dr. Picani is here and flirts up a storm,” Virgil grimaced. He shrugged. “I have to talk to Doc anyway, since I need to take your lamps, and I can’t exactly pay for those right now.”

“Oh, are you short on money? Perhaps you could wish for riches?” Logan suggested. Virgil shook his head.

“No way. Suddenly being rich is not the best way to keep a low profile,” Virgil said decisively. Logan looked a bit put out, but he nodded. He conjured up a notebook and pen and jotted something down. Virgil frowned.

“Are you taking notes? On me?” Virgil asked. Logan blinked.

“Yes? I like to get my Master’s wishes granted as quickly and efficiently as possible, so if I have this extended time to get to know you, I figured I might as well notate your… discrepancies from my typical kind of master,” Logan explained.

“Oh. Well, jot this down, I clearly have a death wish, because I’m going to investigate  _ soul sucking witches _ ,” Virgil exclaimed.

“I’m sorry!” Patton insisted.

“No, no, it’s fine. Come on, Dr. Picani lives upstairs, just let me…” Virgil turned to the lamps thoughtfully, then scooped them up in his arms. Roman made an offended sound as Virgil darted into the main store and shoved them unceremoniously into his backpack. Virgil turned around, pasting on his best awkward grin. “I’ll grab the keys, you guys don’t touch  _ anything _ .”

And thus, Virgil had shoplifted three lamps, closed the store early, and technically broke and entered private property as he entered the locked gate and hurried towards Dr. Picani’s apartment.


	3. The Witch Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emile arrives on the scene, and info dumps occur.

Virgil pounded on the front door of the good Doctor’s apartment. Down the hall was another room, with his name and occupation on it. That was where he helped vampires transition from their trapped tombs to proper living society. His office hours said he was closed, however, so he was sure Doc had to be home. “Dr. Picani!”

His bag shook as he looked around to make sure no one was coming up the hall. There were two renters that shared the apartment space with Dr. Picani, who owned the building. The good doctor kept one room for recently excavated vampires, and the other for anyone at all.

There was, currently living in the vamp-safe apartment, a young woman who had been rescued from an ancient, unmarked grave in Salem. The Vampire Recovery League only found her because of the wild roses. Doc hadn't told Virgil much about her, doctor-patient confidentiality and all, but she was terrified of fire to a larger degree than any other vampire was. She had once screeched and turned into a mist when Virgil came near her with a candle during a blackout one evening.

The apartment next to it currently belonged to a broke college student Virgil had been conscripted by Dr. Picani to help move in. They weren't anything suspicious, and Virgil didn't see much of them.

After all, technically Virgil wasn't supposed to use the building key except in an emergency, so he spent most of his time in the store downstairs.

The doors kept whispering distractingly at him, and making him paranoid that someone was coming. It was hard enough knowing he had three genies in his bag. How he'd gotten his hands on _three_ when there were only a few known magical lamps in the world was beyond him, but here he was! Fate's dumpster, apparently.

"Dr. Picani!" Virgil cried, slamming his fist against the door. The door spewed out hundreds of different greetings Picani had used while opening it, and Virgil scowled.

" _Shut up_!" He hissed at the wood, and it did, but only briefly before whispers of an argument had just in front of it began to pour from its grains.

He slammed his back against the door and slid down, stringing his hands through his hair, tugging. Blue mist filled the air briefly, and Patton appeared before him.

"Oh, kiddo, are you okay-"

"Don't touch me!" Virgil snapped, as the djinn's hands came close to him. Patton reared back as if he'd struck him, and Virgil felt self hatred wrap around his anxiety. He buried his face in his knees. "I'm the worst kind of person."

"Hey, no!" Patton protested.

"I am! What kind of person yells at someone who's just trying to help!?" Virgil demanded, and next to him Logan appeared in a puff of navy smoke.

"Sometimes when people aren't going to help properly, telling them to stop might be best. While it may not be… 'nice' to yell, your health is the priority in these moments," Logan informed. He was writing something down in his notebook.

"What are you doing _now_?" Virgil scowled.

"Ah. I'm simply writing down that you may have an anxiety disorder, so I might search the archives in my lamp for better ways to help you through these attacks," Logan informed. He smiled, the first time since Virgil had rubbed his lamp, and fondly rubbed his notebook with a thumb.

Roman appeared in a dramatic spin and a puff of red smoke. " _What_ is taking so long, is this Dr. Picani fellow even _home_?"

"Virgil, are you okay?" Patton asked. Virgil took a deep breath and pulled out one of the lamps. It was pretty, and brass, with scalloped patterns.

He traced the lamp's patterns and took a deep breath, focusing his attention on it.

_"I need you to enter your lamp!"_

_"But, D, I-"_

_"Go, Patton! Enter your lamp, we don't have much time!"_

_"I can help!"_

_"GO!"_

Virgil took a sharp intake of breath and looked around. The door had gone silent. The walls were silent too. The only thing he could hear was the lamp in his hands, whispering years of granted wishes to him.

"What was that?" Roman asked. All three genies were staring at him with intense confusion. Virgil flushed.

"I uh. I can hear objects?" Virgil said awkwardly. He'd never told anybody about this sort of thing before.

"What do you mean by 'hear objects'?" Logan asked.

"Like, um. The walls tell me conversations they've heard. Chairs too. The sidewalk in the city almost always sounds like there are hundreds of people all talking over each other, but the new sidewalk they put outside my apartment just sounds like construction worker gossip. Um, your- your lamps sound kinda quiet unless I focus really hard. It helped me tune out the door. Sorry," Virgil muttered. All three djinn looked at him with blank faces.

"How utterly fascinating, I've never heard of such a skill," Logan commented.

"Oh, kiddo, this means you can figure out how my lamp got to Remy all on your own!" Patton exclaimed excitedly.

"Incredible," Roman said in awe. "You hear the echoes of the past."

Virgil's cheeks warmed, and the other two djinn looked to Roman curiously. Roman simply smiled.

Virgil coughed. "Uh, sorry, Pat. I can't control what I hear, it just happens. We'd have more luck finding Remy."

Patton's shoulders slumped in disappointment, but he nodded.

Just then, Virgil heard the stairs creaking, whispering with phone conversations, and ne tenant orientations, and he looked up with wide eyes as Dr. Picani arrived.

The man had soft dark hair, tortoiseshell glasses, and bright blue eyes that conveyed surprise as he took in the four people in his hallway.

"Virgil? What's the sitch?" Dr. Picani asked, and immediately relief flooded Virgil's veins. Of course Dr. Picani would wait for him too explain despite having sensed what was going on already. Doc was the only witch Virgil had ever felt able to trust.

* * *

Patton and D stopped in D's bedroom, the furthest room from the entrance, and D cursed as he slammed the door. They were cornered. He looked across the room, for what Patton didn't know. He narrowed his eyes, then turned to Patton, gripping the djinn's hand in his own. "I need you to enter your lamp!"

"But, D, I-" He was interrupted by the door rattling. D lifted the lamp.

"Go, Patton! Enter your lamp, we don't have much time!" D ordered.

"I can help!" Patton insisted, shoving the lamp against D's chest.

" _Go_!" D shouted.

" _No_!" Patton cried.

"Patton, I _love_ you, but I swear to god, if you do not _enter your lamp_ , I will- I-" D hesitated, and Patton felt something bitter rise up in his chest.

"You'll _what_ , D? You'll feed off my soul like a selfish witch? Torture me for eternity for immortal life? You aren't _like_ that, D, I know it," Patton spat. "Let me _help_ you, you still have two wishes!"

"I _won't_ waste those wishes on something so ridiculous as fighting off my mother's forces," D snapped. "I can take care of myself!"

"What would you even _use_ them for!?" Patton demanded. "In all five of the years we've spent together, you've only made _one_ wish!"

"Does it matter?" D scowled. "All I want that your mere existence doesn't _already_ grant me, is the love of my parents, and we know you can't bring back what's _dead_."

"D!" Patton protested, on the verge of tears. "Please let me help you! Just make a wish!"

D frowned. "Fine. I wish…"

"Whatever it is, I grant it already!" Patton assured. "I just want you safe, D. I love you _so much_."

Something flickered in D's eyes, and he smirked. He stroked Patton's cheek and looked him in the eyes. "I wish for you to never fall into my mother's hands."

Patton gasped as the doors broke open at last, witches bursting into D's bedroom. Patton's lamp flew out the window. The last thing Patton saw of his master was a relieved smile, and then he was inside his lamp.

"D!" Patton screeched. "D, come back!"

Tears streamed down his face and he looked around his lamp, at a loss. He knew, even if he left the lamp, D would not be out there waiting for him. He had no use but to wait for someone, hopefully D, to rub his lamp again. Time was… immaterial, in the lamp. Both long and short. But he'd wait. He had to wait. He'd wait an eternity for D to find him again.

* * *

"So you're afraid you've made yourself a target for dark witches." Emile Picani was a warm looking figure, seated on his armchair in his study, behind his desk. The lamps were set on the desk between them, and Virgil fidgeted on the available stool.

Virgil nodded wordlessly, gesturing at the three lamps with a twisted grimace on his face. Emile sighed.

"I have to admit, three genies bound to one person is a bit worrisome. But I promise they can't be found while they remain here, Virgil. My building has wards against soul scrying to protect the tenants," Emile assured. Virgil grimaced.

"Except I'm not a tenant," Virgil muttered. Doc snorted.

"No, you aren't. But you _are_ a dear friend and employee of mine, so if you need to stay you can," Emile assured.

"I- I already owe you for the lamps," Virgil muttered. Emile chuckled.

"Virgil, I'm a witch. I knew exactly what these were when I saw them. They were never for sale," Emile informed.

"Good!" Roman exclaimed, and he came forward from where the genies had positioned themselves towards the back of the study. "My magic is _boundless_ , no fair label or price can be put onto my lamp, and I would have been offended to learn otherwise!"

Emile smiled. "Well, fair enough. Roman did you say?"

"Indeed!" Roman proclaimed, with a dramatic flourish.

"And you two are Logan and Patton, correct?" Emile asked, repeating what Virgil had told him. The two addressed djinn nodded. Virgil sank into his armchair a bit, focusing on the whispers coming from it.

_"Emile, baby, come on."_

Remy. Right, he had business here.

"Emile, Remy's the one who brought you Patton's lamp, right?" Virgil asked.

"He brings me any lamps he finds. He knows I refuse to use soul magic, so he runs them by me to see if there's a djinn inside, and I tuck the genies away for safekeeping," Emile informed.

Patton leaned forward. "Did Remy tell you where he found me?"

Emile shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, he was in a hurry."

"How many genies even are there?" Virgil huffed.

"Thirteen registered djinn exist in the world right now," Emile explained. Roman looked startled.

"Registered? What's a registered djinn?" Roman asked. Emile smiled a bit sadly.

"In 1801, a man claimed his slave had stolen his djinn and run off, taking with him a portion of his slaves. When the witches looked into the situation, it became clear that the slaves had been magically liberated, as all the ownership papers were now blank, but with magical traces of having been altered. With no claim to ownership of the djinn or even the missing slaves, the man's case was not solved or even seen to," Emile explained carefully. He folded his hands on his desk. "In 1823, a witch with a genie of her own decided she didn't want to _lose_ her genie due to such a technicality as a court case from twenty two years prior, and wished there was an untouchable system for keeping track of the ownership of djinn."

"Excuse me, _what_!?" Roman demanded, looking absolutely scandalized.

"It's nothing like tethering, Roman, I assure you," Logan huffed. "Every lamp that has been rubbed since 1823 has immediately been registered, along with the name of who rubbed it. Once the three wishes are completed, our lamp stays on file while our master does not. I looked into it myself. It is kept up solely by genie magic, though the information is accessible to everyone, and no wish has been able to alter it."

"I tried to refrain from registering any of you, but I take it, Logan and Patton, you two have already been registered?" Emile asked.

"Yes, long ago," Logan informed.

"I've had plenty of masters," agreed Patton.

"What is _tethering_?" Virgil asked suddenly.

"It's like wishing for infinite wishes, Virgil," Emile explained.

"Genies can't _give_ you infinite wishes," Virgil protested.

"No, they cannot. As one does not live _infinitely_ , there's no way to grant _infinite_ wishes," Logan agreed. "However, you can wish for a genie to grant your every desire, as a desire is not exactly a wish, and _that_ is called tethering.

"What- what does that mean for you?" Virgil asked. "It sounds… bad."

"It is! You'd be stuck granting the whims of some- some _madman_ ! He wouldn't care for you, or treat you properly, and because he made a wish that changes based on his own _feelings_ , you're stuck! Until he _dies_!" Roman protested.

Patton gasped. "Roman, did someone-"

"No! But if I had, I'd be of the opinion that living in this lamp is a goddamn _nightmare_ , and that the powers I possess are unequal to my suffering!" Roman announced.

"I for one have never been tethered, but surely it cannot be so bad? Mortals cannot harm us," Logan pointed out. Red smoke puffed out of Roman's ears.

"Can't _harm_ us!? Are you so cold and unfeeling that you can't even-"

"Okay, that's enough!" Emile called, tapping his fist on his desk. Virgil glanced between Roman and his lamp for a moment. It was a larger, rounder shape than the other two, with a kraken decorating the spout and beautiful spirals spanning the whole thing. He wondered briefly if he'd learn anything about the tethering if he tried to listen.

No. That would be prying. He'd already done enough of that in the hallway, and they hadn't even known he could listen to their histories.

"Could you actually call Remy? We do still need to find out what happened," Virgil said with a resigned sigh. Emile smiled.

"Sorry, Virgil. I know you didn't want it to have to come to a talk with Remy," Emile reassured.

"It's just that he _clearly_ doesn't like me," Virgil huffed. "And he's so annoying, flirting with you all the time."

"He's just being affectionate. And he'd like you better if he got over his jealousy. He doesn't like how close we are, but he's trying not to be too possessive," Dr. Picani informed gently.

"Who is this Remy?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, who exactly are we trusting with our collective safety?" Roman demanded.

"Remy's trustworthy, Scout's honor! Like I said, he's the one who brought me all your lamps to begin with, because he knew they'd be safe here," Emile explained. He got up from his chair and made his way out of the study. "I'm going to call him now. Make yourselves at home."

"He's a vampire," Virgil stated as he watched the genies shuffle and hover in uncertainty. "He couldn't take your wishes if he wanted to."

The door shut behind Emile.

"A vampire? I haven't done much study into them. Perhaps this adventure won't be such a waste of my time, then," Logan hummed.

Patton chuckled uncomfortably. "Virgil, kiddo, are you sure Remy's safe? You said he doesn't like you. What if he hurts you?"

"Remy's as harmless as a gerbil. Even if he bit me, it wouldn't hurt for long," Virgil assured.

"Is biting you on his agenda? Because if you're turned, we can't grant your wishes. Even delayed wishes," Roman reminded. Virgil huffed a breath.

"Remy isn't going to turn me. Usually, I'd be freaking out too, but this is _Remy_. As much as he doesn't like me, he'd never hurt me," Virgil insisted. He didn't need to share exactly what Remy had done for him to prove this.

It was personal, that day in the alley.

"Well, if you trust him then I will," Patton said firmly. Roman agreed with a nod and a hand on his heart. Did genie's have hearts? They had souls.

Emile quickly reentered. "Remy's on his way."

"So fast?" Virgil asked.

"Yeah. I think he's worried about you, Virge," Emile said with a fond grin. Virgil grimaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the info dumping, I think I got a bit carried away, oops. I hope it doesn't take away from the storytelling too much


	4. The Vampire's Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy and Virgil might butt heads, but they really care about each other. The issue, of course, is getting Virgil to realize this.

"Welcome to  _ Something Old Something New _ , what're you looking for?" Virgil asked. The man standing in front of him lowered his shades and looked at him from over the rims. His eyes were blood red and Virgil tried not to freak out. Plenty of people could coexist around vampires without freaking out. Why couldn't Virgil stop being a baby for two seconds?

"I'm looking for Emile Picani," the vampire said. He leaned close and sniffed. "You smell… weird."

Virgil shuddered. "I wouldn't know why. I'll go see if the boss is in."

The vampire scowled. "Wait. You're Emi's little human."

Virgil furrowed his brow. "Excuse me?"

"Listen, Emile's  _ my _ witch, okay? His services aren't for sale, so if you're just trying to get close to a witch, then-"

"I don't care about Doc's magic," Virgil snapped. He folded his arms. "Are you just here to throw baseless accusations at me for no reason, or can I go get my boss?"

The vampire scoffed. "Fine. Get Emile. But I've got an eye on you."

"A blood eye, I can tell," Virgil snarled.

"You're acting tough for someone so smelly. If I didn't have standards, I'd probably have tried you for a  _ bite _ ," the vampire said, flashing his fangs. Virgil jerked back. The vampire smirked, then spun away to sit down on an ancient bench.

That set the tone for the relationship between Remy and Virgil for the next seven years. Or rather, the next three years.

Some time four years ago, one thing had changed. Four years ago, Remy had saved his  _ life _ . But still, Remy didn't like him.

"I only did it because Emile cares about you," he had claimed. Virgil had no reason to contradict him.

And now, of course, there was this- this  _ fiasco _ .

"You absolute  _ idiot _ !" Remy screeched. "You rubbed three lamps and didn't even fucking  _ notice _ , do you know how goddamn lucky you are Emile protected this building!? Three entire djinn! Someone's probably noticed your name on the register-  _ three times, mind you _ \- by now! Dark witches will be out for your blood, do you understand just exactly what you've  _ done _ !?"

"It's not my fault, if these lamps are so fucking important, why didn't Doc keep them under lock and key!? They were just  _ sitting out _ on the storage room shelves!" Virgil shouted.

"That  _ is _ under lock and key! You have the only spare key, and the original never leaves Emile's person!" Remy scowled. He turned towards the kitchen. "Emile, back me up here!"

"You asked for this to be a  _ private conversation _ . I won't be apart of you insulting Virgil," Emile informed, sipping from his tea cup. Around their own cups of tea, Roman and Patton giggled, and Logan smirked.

Remy let out a frustrated groan, then whirled back around to Virgil. "At least tell me you're staying here while you- what was it, help the blue one find his boyfriend?"

"D and I weren't dating!" Patton protested, baby blue mist puffing out his ears and nose. He clasped his hands over his cheeks, blushing furiously.

"I can't stay here, I've got a life outside of the store you know," Virgil grumbled.

"You won't have a life at all soon enough if you keep being reckless!" Remy snapped.

"Like you have room to talk! What's your tragic vampire origin story again? Oh yeah, you got too drunk and too close to a vampire nest. You don't get to say anything about my recklessness!" Virgil argued.

"I have better than 'room to talk' I have experience to talk from! If you live to be three hundred, then maybe you'll get it someday! But for now, I'm  _ telling _ you, under no circumstances are you leaving this building!" Remy declared, folding his arms for emphasis.

"You're not my father! Besides, I can't exactly tell my school 'oh, I woke up three djinn and thus may no longer be able to attend classes without risk to my own life as they refuse to answer any wishes until a particular point in time'- you know what that sounds like? It sounds like  _ bullshit _ !" Virgil spat. He was not about to be ordered around like some- like some  _ toddler _ ! He was a grown ass man, and he wouldn't be restricted to Emile's apartment just because some overbearing vampire that didn't even  _ like _ him said so!

Remy scoffed, tearing his shades off his face to reveal the glowing red of his eyes. "I'm not your  _ father _ , and you aren't my  _ spawn _ , but that sure as fuck doesn't mean you aren't my human! And if I say it's too dangerous, then you are gonna sit your ass down, and  _ stay _ !"

Virgil stumbled under the force of the Order and sat down on the couch. He curled his fists and gritted his teeth, hissing at Remy. Remy hissed back.

Remy sauntered into the kitchen then, and Virgil scowled. He tried to get up, but it seemed the Order stuck for now. Goddammit.

"Remy, that's not nice," Emile huffed. Virgil looked over his shoulder to try and get a look into the kitchen, but the walls cut off his vision. He couldn't even look through the large gap over the counter.

"Hey, he and I made a living bond that day. He knew the risks, didn't you, dumbshit!?" Remy called from the kitchen.

"Fuck you, asswipe!" Virgil snapped. He shouldn't have been looking into Remy's eyes while he gave the Order. If he'd been looking away, it wouldn't have worked. Now here he was, stuck on this couch for some arbitrary amount of time.

He glared at the cushion between his knees and sank into the plush back of the couch.

_ "Why's it such a cheap bit of furniture?" _

_ "Well, the donor's wife died on it. Supposedly her spirit haunts it." _

_ "Oh. No, that's not true. Her soul has long since left this couch." _

Virgil shuddered, his fingers clenching around the hemline of a hole in his jeans.

"Are you okay?" Roman's voice came like a bang compared to the whispers of the couch, and Virgil jumped to his feet in surprise. Everyone had exited the kitchen again, and were taking seats in the living room. Remy was wearing his shades again, as he flopped down into the armchair nearest where Virgil was standing. Virgil sat back down at the end of the couch.

"Now that you’re done yelling, Remy why don't you tell Patton where you found his lamp?" Emile asked, and he accepted the lamp from Patton and handed it off to Remy. Remy raised his eyebrows, tracing the shapes on it.

"Oh, this one. I found it in the trash right next to Aos Apartments," Remy informed. Virgil was sure he'd heard the name before.

"In the trash? What were you doing looking in the trash?" Emile asked.

"The guy who owns Aos, you know, he's got a curse. He's stuck living forever, so a bunch of us vamps, we hang out with him. I think about six different clans want to invite him in as a blood donor at this point," Remy shrugged. "He's kind of a nut cause of that- but anyway, he was in there trying to grab your lamp."

"Trying?" Patton repeated.

Remy nodded. "Kept flying out of his hands when he tried to grab it. When he did catch it, it cut his hands and hopped back out. I promised him I'd keep an eye on it."

"I know someone who lives at Aos," Virgil piped up. "He's in my history gen ed."

* * *

Remus snarled and spat at the witch, but he couldn't do much with his entire body pinned as it was. The year was 19… okay, so he'd lost track a little after wandering off the grid into the wilderness in '78. Whatever. But he knew the witch standing above him looked way too clean to have been hunting him down herself for the past millennia. He should've known she'd be smart enough to gather up an army.

"You sent  _ minions _ after me," Remus sneered.

"I did. You had to make yourself difficult to find, after all," the witch commented. Remus scoffed.

"What name do you use these days? Elizabeth? Andromeda? Morgana?" Remus demanded.

"Got it right the first time, how quick on the uptake," the witch chuckled. "You haven't aged a day, Remus, how sad to know your brother remains trapped in his lamp even now."

"You're a  _ monster _ !" Remus growled. Elizabeth smirked at him. She held up a brass lamp, and shook it teasingly.

"Look what I found," she mocked, and Remus sucked in a breath, trying to get a better look. Elizabeth snorted.

"Oh, it's not your dear brother. No, he's not been registered yet. This djinn is all mine," Elizabeth reassured, and she rubbed the lamp. Beside her appeared a less than enthused genie, arriving in gray curls of smoke, black hair limp and damp against their face.

"Yes, Master?" The djinn murmured.

"I wish for this unfortunate man to never so much as utter a wish in his entire pitiable existence. For as long as he walks this earth, steal the wishes right from his tongue," Elizabeth proclaimed, and Remus screeched wordlessly, clawing at the metal beam keeping him trapped. The genie, for their part, gave him a sad and pitying look.

"It shall be so," the djinn informed, and Elizabeth smirked.

"I'd like to see you weasel your way out of my curse now, Remus. How many more wishes did you have left? Two from your brother, if you could reclaim his lamp?" Elizabeth asked.

"Fuck you!" Remus shouted.

"You see, Remus, I found Elliot thirteen years ago," Elizabeth sneered. "I've stopped aging at  _ all _ since."

"I will watch you  _ burn _ ! I hope you  _ die _ , and when you do I will  _ dance on your grave _ !" Remus screamed.

"Oh, Remus," Elizabeth cackled. "As long as I've got Elliot  _ I can't die _ ."

Remus snarled and tore at the dirt with his nails. Elizabeth stepped on his hand, and he hissed and spat like a wild creature in distress. She clicked her tongue chidingly. "Come now, Remus. Don't be a brat."

"Let me  _ go _ ," Remus growled. "I swear I won't tear your hair out or try to bite off your throat."

"Oh no, no,  _ no _ , Remus. You're stuck with me. I won't be having you off and released on the world being a thorn in my side," Elizabeth informed. "No. You're gonna be my baby's godfather, so I can keep an eye on you."

Remus glared up at her. "You look real thin for a pregnant lady."

"I've done this many times before. You think I'm going to be an idiot and birth this brat with my own womb?" Elizabeth scowled. "I'd be out of it for hours, if not days."

"It's looking like I don't exactly have a  _ choice _ in this," Remus growled.

"Well, look at it this way. Either we both live on forever, being thorns in each other's sides, both of us immortal and unable to kill the other- or we stay close. Wait out the right opportunity to strike," Elizabeth offered.

"You're saying this because you think my brother won't be a genie much longer," Remus said suspiciously.

"Oh, honey, have you been living in a ditch? That new movie  _ Aladdin _ has every idiot trying to free their djinn, it's ridiculous," Elizabeth scoffed. Remus narrowed his eyes at her, then glanced at her djinn, small and uncomfortable in their dark clothes.

"What if this blows up in your face and  _ you _ end up the vulnerable one?" Remus questioned. "Gonna have me at your throat pretty quick, Dragon Bitch."

"Oh, I'd love to see you  _ try _ ," Elizabeth snorted. "And frankly I welcome the challenge."

* * *

Remus was a kooky fellow Virgil had first met in his history class. The man had stood up, told the teacher the textbook was incorrect, then gone into a lengthy lecture about how the events had actually transpired. Virgil leaned over their desks once he sat down and asked him how he knew, and Remus had grinned at him and said, "I fought on both sides in both world wars, kid, I know what I'm talking about!"

Virgil, who knew for a fact vampires and witches were barred from most militaries at the time of  _ both _ those wars, had merely laughed it off as a joke. But the loud, multicolored robe Remus wore most days spoke ridiculously old stories. The bangles and bracelets and pendants and necklaces hissed histories Virgil had never encountered in most people.

He'd asked Remus if they were all heirlooms, but the man just rattled off stories that he'd supposedly lived through. Virgil wasn’t sure he believed him, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure he didn’t.

After hearing what Remy said, all he needed to do was introduce Remy to Remus and see if they were the same man. Though, the thought of crazy old Remus being the immortal owner of an apartment building didn’t feel plausible.

The problem that arose were the lamps. Emile insisted that the lamps, and thus the djinn, stay in his apartment. Virgil couldn’t exactly disagree. After all, even just leaving the safety of the building himself was a terrible, awful idea. He’d be susceptible to scrying from any witch who’d seen his name on the register. He’d be a dead man walking. It would only be worse if he carried the reasons for that in a bag at his side.

So, Remy ended up being the only one going with Virgil to the park where he had met with Remus multiple times outside of class.

Remy shuffled in the cold breeze as if he felt it at all, as if he could warm up his own long still blood. “You’re going to insist on going to school still, huh?”

“I am,” Virgil huffed.

“What if some dark witches track you down to your school and set up an ambush? Even if you aren’t there all the time, you’re there at consistent times, in consistent places,” Remy reminded bitterly.

“I’m not dropping my classes,” Virgil argued. “I can’t do that to Doc.”

“And just  _ what _ would you be doing to Emile by dropping your classes? Staying alive?” Remy demanded, glaring at him from above the rims of his shades. Virgil glared right back at him.

“I’m not gonna keep mooching off of Dr. Picani forever! He’s been  _ great _ , really, but he still doesn’t even  _ know _ me!” Virgil scowled.

“You aren’t mooching! You’re our-  _ his _ human!” Remy snapped. He sat down with a huff on the park bench behind them. “I just don’t get you at all, Virgil! Emile picked you up off the street when you were thirteen. You’re his.”

“I don’t belong with the Doc,” Virgil insisted. “And only a vamp or a witch cares so much about belonging, anyway. Any human would’ve looked at me and saw me for exactly what I was back then.”

“Any human would have seen you  _ wrong _ ,” Remy snapped. “I can smell it all over you.”

Virgil scowled, but the conversation ended as he spotted a familiar mane of curls attached to a saggy knit coat in a hundred vibrant colors. He straightened up ramrod straight, and waved an arm to catch Remus’ attention. The man spotted him, and immediately darted over, a huge grin on his face.

“Virgey! Rem! Just the faces I wanted to see!”


	5. Softhearted and Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danel becomes a djinn. It's not the best start.  
> Patton is very good at turning people into softhearted losers.

The year was 995 BC, and Danel was starving. His family was suffering, his parents having sold their baby to the witch who killed their landlord.

Danel would have been an older brother. Instead, he watched as the witch who had come into possession of their land sucked the brand new soul from his baby sister. Miel, her name would have been. He picked it himself when his mother was round enough that she could no longer work the land.

"Please," his mother had begged of the witch man. "Please do not take Danel. We could not work the land if you took him."

Father was lame, now. His legs made useless. It was true that Danel was the only one who could help his mother on the farm.

"Then give me your baby. The younger the soul, the more years, after all," the witch bartered, and Mother had wept and Father had volunteered his own soul instead. The witch refused, his voice cruel as he insisted upon Miel.

He collected her as soon as she was born. Mother and Father wept and screamed and cried when she was gone. Danel hated it. Later on in his lifetime, when a fairy tale called Rapunzel would come to be, Danel would hate it with every fiber of his being, and think of his sweet sister Miel.

Danel son of Elihai found the lamp by chance in a river. He thought it might have been valuable, and thought he could sell it to afford food for his family. He cleaned it in the river water and was greeted by a djinn.

"Hello, Master. I must offer you three wishes," the djinn greeted, and Danel almost used them all up immediately. He almost wished to pull his family from poverty, to save his family from the witch, to reverse time and give him a chance to save Miel- but something gave him pause.

"You seem weary," Danel commented.

"Truly I am," the genie said, sighing and miserable. "I have been a djinn for so long, a slave to the whims of my masters."

"Oh?" Danel asked, thinking of the witch and his cruelty. "I understand."

"But enough of this," the djinn said. "Make your first wish."

"My wish?" Danel asked, startled. "I wish…"

And he studied the djinn, who looked so tired and exhausted. Danel pressed his lips together and gripped the djinn's wrist, where the shackles of the magic were wrapped tightly in brass.

"I wish to ease your burden," Danel said, and the djinn grinned wickedly.

The next moment, it was Danel in the shackles, and the djinn was simply a man, grabbing the lamp at their feet before Danel could even blink. The man laughed.

"You gullible fool! I was a djinn for but a few moons- cursed by a witch for stealing from her!" The man crowed, and Danel felt like weeping.

"I wish for a palace," the man declared.

"Granted," Danel spat bitterly.

"I wish for the most beautiful woman to be made my wife," the man demanded.

"I cannot make anyone love-"

"Love need not be a factor!" The man cackled. Danel bitterly wished that this man might one day meet his end. But wishes were not for him anymore.

"Granted," he said, strained. "She will arrive at your palace within the week."

"I wish for riches beyond my wildest dreams!" The man finished.

" _ Granted _ ," Danel spat. The man tossed the lamp aside, and Danel sucked in a breath as suddenly he was inside the lamp. He did not know how much time passed, it felt like an eternity and a blink, but then one day he felt a warm touch grace his lamp once again. He appeared and stared, wide eyed at his mother, so much older and so much more tired.

"Oh," she said. "A djinn."

" _ Eema _ ," Danel wept. " _ Eema _ , you have grown so old."

"What was that?" Mother asked. "I have not been a mother in very long, djinn, you must be confused."

"Confused?" Danel asked.

"Indeed. My Danel was murdered decades ago by a common thief- a thief who turned himself into a prince. I will not bow to him, who stole the life of my sweet boy," Mother said, and Danel wanted to scream, and weep, and cry. He could see the film over his mother's eyes and knew she could not see him.

"What do you wish, Master?" Danel asked. "I may grant you three wishes."

"Three? How generous," Mother said, and Danel laughed. It hurt to do so.

"That is not so, for many. You must have a pure heart," Danel said.

"That would not be so yesterday," Mother said. "I am a selfish woman, who did not appreciate her family before they were gone to her. I have lost my husband now, too."

"I see. Well, do try to wish for three things. Be warned, I cannot create or destroy a life, I cannot create love, and I cannot grant you more wishes," Danel said. He'd had time in the lamp to learn.

"In that case, I am afraid I have nothing to wish for. Except… except I do wish that the witch Jerald would suffer and lose his riches," Mother said, her words bitter and angry.

"Granted," Danel offered.

"I wish that the man who took my son from me will find himself betrayed by men as greedy as he," Mother sneered.

"Granted," Danel promised.

"I wish… I cannot think of anything more to wish," Mother said. "I am in my final moments."

"You should wish to see your son," Danel said.

"You said you could not bring back the dead," Mother argued.

"You did not bury your son. He did not die," Danel swore.

Mother was silent. Then she said, "I wish to see my son, then. Before I die."

"Granted," Danel whispered, and Mother's eyes cleared, and for a moment she stared at him.

"Danel," Mother wept.

" _ Eema _ ," Danel sobbed, and they embraced. His mother died in his arms, and so did the name Danel.

For a long time, he was simply a djinn, no name and barely any presence. The name Danel was long forgotten, but the name of his sister stayed in his heart forever, alongside his mother and father.

* * *

Virgil jerked awake, hearing the sobs of a dying mother and her son coming from the lamp right by his head. He stared at it silently. Patton's lamp.

Patton had spent the entire afternoon trying to come up with a plan, smiling and sure that they'd get D back. Even when Virgil and Remy came back from their encounter with Remus, with nothing but a scrap of paper and the words "I'm being watched, can't talk now", Patton had smiled and said, "I'm sure everything will work out. We can find D, I believe in us."

He'd been even more relieved to learn that he'd only been in his lamp for a month at most. After a dream like that, Virgil could see why. He brushed his knuckles against the scalloped designs along the sides, and baby blue smoke poured out. Patton appeared, eyes bright and glowing in the dark room.

"Did you need something, kiddo?" Patton asked.

"Please stop calling me that," Virgil sighed. Patton chuckled.

"Sorry. It's kind of a habit," Patton explained. Virgil frowned, but he let it go. Best not to go blabbering to his genies that he was having invasive dreams about their history. "But seriously, are you okay, Virgil? You look really pale."

"Bad dream," Virgil excused. "Pat… where'd you get your name?"

"My name?" Patton asked.

"Yeah. Roman and Logan both told me, but where'd you get yours?" Virgil asked. Patton's expression turned wistful.

"Thomas gave it to me. He was a good kid. Wished to fix his mother's heart, to get rid of his cat allergy, and to live a happy life for a hundred years," Patton explained, a smile on his face. "It's been a while. He promised me he'd give my lamp to somebody who deserved it and next thing I knew, I was with D. I wonder how he's doing?"

"This was recent?" Virgil asked. Patton shrugged.

"It's been a long time since anyone's asked me for a name. Thomas was the first master I had that treated me like something more than a djinn," Patton said. His smile took on a sad note. "He's probably really old now, though."

"How does someone usually become a genie, anyway?" Virgil asked. "Witches can't just make someone immortal, or they'd do it to themselves, wouldn't they?"

"It's not that they curse people with immortality. They curse them with eternal servitude. That's how someone becomes a genie," Patton explained. After a moment, he shrugged. "Most of the time."

"And vampires?"

"Vampires just exist, as far as I know. The first vampires were rumored to be the victims of a witch's youth ritual, since they look young and they don't have souls," Patton explained. He laughed suddenly. "Logan might know more than me on that subject, though."

Virgil pursed his lips. He wasn't sure he cared enough to find out. He knew vampires turned others by sucking the soul out through the blood. They hungered for souls, and unlike witches that cleanly separated souls from their bodies, they did it through the veins. However, most vampires didn't eat like that. They sustained themselves on the blood alone, and unless they  _ were _ turning someone, they didn't take the soul.

"I don't think I'm gonna be able to get back to sleep. You can go back into the lamp though," Virgil offered, changing the subject.

"No way! If you're staying up, I'm staying up with you!" Patton declared.

"You really don't have to," Virgil said.

"Virgil, I don't sleep. I want to stay out here and keep you company," Patton insisted. Virgil couldn't help but smile.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Patton asked, seeking confirmation.

"Okay," Virgil agreed, nodding.

"Okay!" Patton cheered. He spun around in a circle in midair, then grinned down at Virgil. "Wanna make some cookies?"

"Isn't a bit late for cookies?" Virgil asked.

"It's four o'clock in the morning, so your argument should be  _ early _ \- in either case, it's never the wrong time for cookies!" Patton said. Virgil laughed.

"Yeah, let's make some cookies. We can't make a mess in Emile's kitchen though!" Virgil warned.

"No messes! Yes sir!" Patton joked. Virgil grinned. Maybe being stuck with these three wouldn't be so bad. For now.

* * *

The sight was awful. Grey smoke trailed around their legs as they walked, swirling and mixing with the baby blue smoke that wafted off of Patton's skin. Blood was everywhere too, the shimmering golden blood of a djinn- fresh too, or it would've evaporated by now. Patton's hands were over his mouth as he stared at the battered and bruised lamp sitting on a pedestal in the center of the room, a weak and limp figure slumped on the floor in front of it.

"D... D, this is terrible," Patton whispered. D clutched the pristine lamp at his side tightly, staring at it all with a blank, grim expression. They weren't supposed to know about this room, D was sure.

"This is how she isn't aging," D explained. Patton let out a miserable sob, and he got down to his knees in front of the slumped form.

"Hello? Hello, are you awake!?" Patton cried, cupping a horribly battered face in his hands, wiping golden blood away and leaving healed cuts in his wake. D grimaced.

"Patton, healing this djinn won't help them," D pointed out.

"But-"

"He's right," the strange djinn cut in. Patton looked helplessly at his peer. "I belong to the Dragon Witch. She ran out of wishes decades ago. Now I just exist to keep her alive."

"She's killing you!" Patton cried, his eyes big and wet. "Sucking your soul out over and over!"

"Djinn don't die," D corrected. "They just suffer the pain of a million deaths for as long their souls are being torn from them."

"It  _ feels _ like dying," Patton protested, speaking from hearsay. He'd never had the misfortune of falling into the hands of a Dark Witch. D gave him a look. Then he rubbed his fingers against the lamp, and Patton jolted up, looking at him through wet lashes. "You've never made a wish before."

"Well, I will now," D huffed, and his eyes darted to the door behind him. He looked to the genie slumped in front of them. "What's your name?"

"Elliot," the genie murmured. "After a soldier during one of the early American wars."

D nodded, and he held up the intact lamp, unhooking the handle from his belt. Patton looked at him in confusion, but D didn't return his glance. "I wish that Elliot be freed from this lamp and absolved of… their djinn duties."

Patton's heart felt full, and his magic tingled in joy all around him. Baby blue smoke filled the room, quickly overtaking the grey.

"Wish granted, wish more than granted!" Patton exclaimed, and he watched gleefully as the magic faded from Elliot's battered and ruined lamp. Elliot's wounds healed in brilliant flourishes of baby blue light, and the shackles around their wrists disappeared in the baby blue smoke. Elliot's eyes brimmed with tears.

"Thank you," Elliot wept. "Thank you!"

"Don't thank me yet," D warned. "We're not in the clear."

Only a week later, D's mother locked him up in that very same room.


	6. An Ancient Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emile has known Virgil for quite a while. It's not just his unique self that keeps Emile invested, but the worrisome nature of his soul.
> 
> A young boy comes home to a quiet house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be shorter than usual, but I thought it was a good stopping point for one chapter.
> 
> Think of this like a kind of intermission/interlude but not really.

When Virgil was thirteen, Emile found him on the street. The boy had an odd soul, definitely not that of a witch, but it was tattered and ancient. A soul that broke off and disappeared into every object he walked past and yet… never diminished. Like it was healing itself as much as it was tearing away. It was such an odd soul, similar to a djinn and yet not at all the same, so Emile offered the kid a place to stay.

All souls were entirely unique. Emile knew that for certain. But human souls were all recognizable as a human soul, like how a fingerprint is recognizable as a fingerprint. Virgil's soul was unique, certainly, but it was as if his "fingerprint" were the roots of a tree.

"I'm a human," Virgil said, and Emile doubted him.

"But your soul-"

"I'm _a human_ ," he hissed, and Emile let it drop. The next morning, Emile found a piece of Virgil's very, very odd soul sitting right in the center of his own soul. He checked on the boy, who'd been sleeping on the couch, and couldn't help but feel trusted.

"I'll take care of the piece you gave me," Emile whispered in a promise. He pressed a kiss to the part in Virgil's hair, and let the boy rest.

Virgil didn't stick around at first. He came by only at night, tried to give Emile some of the food he managed to scrounge, and slept on the couch. By the third month, Emile finally got Virgil to start sleeping in the guest bedroom.

Remy came by during the day, hardly ever at night, but he could smell Virgil all over the place. Emile didn't want to talk about Virgil without his permission, but the moment Remy asked, nearly four years later, he started gushing.

"So let me get this straight," Remy scowled. "You adopted a human."

"He's an odd one," Emile said. "I wonder if he might not be."

"Might not be human?" Remy asked. Emile nodded.

"His soul… it's different," Emile explained. He placed a hand over his heart. "He gave me part of it."

"He _what_? Humans can't do that," Remy said. Emile laughed.

"I _know_ , Remy," Emile said.

"I don't trust him. What if that's how he marks targets, or something?" Remy asked.

"It's _not_ ," Emile assured. "If he meant anyone in this building harm, he wouldn't be able to come in."

"I thought those wards were against _witches_. You said he's human," Remy reminded. Emile nodded.

"His soul is probably human, but… it's so old. It's like it's constantly deteriorating under its own age, but replenishing just as fast," Emile said. Remy's eyebrows jumped into view over his shades.

"It just grows back?" Remy asked.

"If it is growing back, it's doing it so fast that I can't even tell it was hurt. And he doesn't act as though his soul is being torn apart," Emile confessed. Remy scoffed.

"I wanna meet the kid," he said.

"What?" Emile asked.

"I wanna meet him. Vet him, test him, I don't know. But I need to smell him," Remy said.

"I can't get him to come back for any reasons but sleeping," Emile sighed.

"Give him a job," Remy suggested.

"He _is_ seventeen," Emile sighed.

"He's also, arguably, not human," Remy pointed out. Emile huffed, but he couldn't think of an argument against that point. Virgil probably _wasn't_ fully human. Not with a soul so… regenerative.

So he gave him a job. And Virgil moved in properly. Until he was nineteen and off he went, finding his own apartment. Now he was twenty four, and he had three djinn, and his soul was spiraling in panic.

Emile had spent most of the night pondering over what Remy had told him when they got back. Remus had been a slight dead end, but he'd given the vampire an email address to contact and let him know he was being watched. It was late in the evening when Remy had sent Remus a message, and received in response a lengthy email detailing his deal with the Dragon Witch, and the recent events that led to Remy's brief ownership of the scalloped lamp.

According to Remus, he and the Dragon Witch had been locked in a truce, but the moment one of them lost their immortality the other would strike. That moment was _now_ for Remus, but unlike the witch, he was being watched. He needed allies, and hadn't had the same amount of decades to build an army as she had. Mainly because Remus, as he admitted in his email, was not a man of foresight.

Not only that, but she was using her own son as collateral against Remus. The email's exact wording had been: _Now, I've only met him once, but I'm sure someone would be upset if I didn't do my godfatherly duty and protect him._

"You're friends with this man?" Emile had asked, and Remy had shrugged.

"He's immortal. He doesn't get very attached."

It had been a long night, but Emile had fallen asleep eventually. The next morning he woke to a clatter in the kitchen.

"I told you not to pull it out with your bare hands! I don't care if you're a genie, you still need to protect yourself from the heat!" Virgil's voice carried through the apartment as Emile made his way to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I got so excited!" Patton cried out.

Emile stood in the doorway and took in the scene. There was a tray of cookies on the floor, one or two having fallen off onto the floor, Patton was floating in the air above the oven, blowing baby blue smoke over golden burnt hands. Virgil had some ice, and was staring in annoyed amazement as the burns healed near instantly.

"That's a cool trick, but you should still be careful," Virgil huffed. Patton giggled.

"Are you worried about me, V?" Patton asked.

"I worry about everybody," Virgil muttered, sliding a pair of oven mitts onto his hands before reaching down to pick up the tray of cookies. Patton spotted Emile first.

"Oh, good morning!" Patton exclaimed.

"Good morning," Emile said, amused. He studied the djinn's soul curiously. He'd never seen one out of the lamp. The soul seemed to float in and out of the body, expanding towards the walls and then retracting back. It reminded Emile of Virgil's a bit, in how old and weathered it looked. Virgil was definitely human, though. Or something close to it. "Cookies for breakfast?"

"Kind of," Virgil said. "We couldn't sleep-"

"Genies don't sleep,"Patton cut in.

"So Pat suggested we make cookies," Virgil finished. Emile looked at the table, spotting several plates of cookies.

"How long have you been at it?" Emile asked.

"By now? Uh, four hours I guess," Virgil mumbled, glancing at the clock. Emile laughed, startled.

"Well, you two better make some breakfast then, or we won't get to eat your cookies!" Emile laughed. Virgil smiled, looking happy, relaxed, and a little excited. Emile's heart swelled. He felt so proud and elated to see Virgil's smile, especially with how rare it was.

"How do pancakes sound?" Virgil offered.

"Thank you, Virgil," Emile said, trying to put as much of his pride and gratefulness into his words as possible. Virgil flushed.

"No problem, Doc."

* * *

He was young when it happened. He’d come home from school and the house was eerily silent. He wondered, for a moment, if Mother was in the basement, taking another child’s soul. Mother did that often, before giving the dead body to Father so he could drink the blood. Mother often threatened him with the same fate if he called anyone.

He knew that he could easily call someone. There were groups that could rescue vampires from the likes of his mother, his father would finally get properly fed and cared for. There were people who specialized in arresting and containing witches. His mother would finally see justice. And he was… he was normal, except for the screaming that he heard all the time in every room of his home. He could finally have a normal family, live a normal life.

But the odds were, his mother would kill him before help would arrive. She’d probably feed him to his father, and then how could he convince the world that his father simply needed rehabilitation? No, he just needed to ride this out.

But that day, the house was silent. He tentatively opened the basement door, and then he heard a noise. His father’s chains clinked, and red eyes stared up at him from the darkness. He shuddered. He was scared of his father, just a little.

Tentatively, he came down the stairs, his eyes unblinkingly locked with his father’s. He felt the urge to blink, but he didn’t dare do so. Not when his father was most definitely a dangerous predator.

“Come on, kid, come here. Come let Daddy free,” his father beckoned.

He shook his head. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” His father hissed.

“Mom says you’re _feral_. I can’t let you go,” he explained. His father growled, jerking towards his place on the stairs. The chain around his neck, and the chains around his wrists, kept him far from the stairs, but the movement brought the scent of blood washing over the kid on the staircase. He stared down at his father in fear. “How-”

“Mommy keeps Daddy locked away,” his father sneered. “Mommy has him trapped in magical wards and feeds him so rarely. Mommy got cocky- Mommy got _careless_.”

“You _killed Mom_!?” He cried out, flicking on the basement light. His father hissed, his eyes unused to the light, and cowered back against the wall. His mother’s body lay on the ground, as pale as any of Father’s meals.

“Let me go! Let me go!” His father shrieked, scrambling against the wall, tearing at the bolts keeping him chained to the wall.

He stared at his witch mother, dead on the floor, and his vampire father, chained up like an animal to the wall. He could leave, he realized. He could leave, call the vampire rehabilitation volunteers, and vanish into thin air. He turned and shut the basement door, ignoring the screaming of his father, and went to the phone.

For a moment, he wondered if he should be sad. His mother was dead and his father would be taken away. But he felt nothing. All around him, his house screamed.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“A vampire’s gone feral. He killed my mom. He’s trapped in the basement.”

After sharing his address with the kind woman on the other end of the line, and being assured that a vampire specialist squad would come collect his father and take him to rehabilitation, he took his go bag from under his bed and walked out of the house. As he turned the corner, he could hear sirens approach his house and felt a weight vanish from his shoulders. He’d never have to live in a house that only remembered screaming again.

Virgil Adams was free.


	7. A Dangerous Nemesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil goes to school to learn- but learning the identity of his new enemy is a bit overwhelming.
> 
> D has a Bad Time, but at least he learns the identity of an old friendly face.

Virgil finally convinced Remy to let him out- however, Remy had only agreed so long as Virgil allowed him to accompany him like some kind of secret service member.

"So, Professor, that's why Remy will be joining us for the foreseeable future," Virgil finished with his revised explanation of the past few days. Professor Sanders merely smiled, which had Virgil relaxing near instantly. He was a really cool teacher.

"Of course, Virgil. The safety of the students is my top priority," Professor Sanders assured. Virgil's lips quirked in a smile. He turned and began to head to the seats in the back of the room, when Professor Sanders spoke again. "Virgil, if you need  _ anything _ , I'm sure I can help."

"Can you?" Virgil asked doubtfully. Professor Sanders just smiled.

"I know some ways to protect yourself. We can talk about it after class?" He offered. Virgil smiled. He couldn't help himself- Professor Sanders was just a cool dude.

"Maybe," Virgil agreed. He wandered to the back of the classroom, where Remy was balancing a pencil on his nose.

"Really, Remy? I thought you were supposed to be protecting me."

"Hey, I have  _ super speed _ and  _ super strength _ \- as soon as I smell a threat, I'll be more than ready to pounce," Remy scoffed. Virgil rolled his eyes and sat down at the desk next to Remy's.

"So, did Remus say anything in the email?" Virgil asked. "I know you went out to track down some of your colony or whatever."

"Hey- they're, like, pals or something. I don't belong to a colony. Remy here is a lone wolf," Remy scolded. Virgil rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right. After we made our living bond, you told me you had to talk to them about it. They're your colony, aren't they?" Virgil needled. Remy scoffed, sounding highly and dramatically offended.

"Andy's part of the Sylvester colony, and Chris is part of the Van Thropp colony. And  _ Remy _ is part of the colonies-can-go-fuck-themselves colony," Remy proclaimed. God, he'd switched to third person. Virgil let it go, turning to his desk as he began to set up his books as the classroom began to steadily fill.

"He didn't say much," Remy finally spoke up, and Virgil looked up.

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked.

"Remus. He just said that it was time to make his move against the Dragon Witch," Remy explained, his tone unreadable and his face entirely blank.

Virgil felt his blood run cold. "The Dragon Witch? The one who owns over half the country? The one who was literally alive when dragons weren't extinct?"

"The very same," Remy explained. "Apparently, she's the mother of this D guy."

His heart was pounding in his throat. Virgil tried to swallow past the lump it made, but somehow his mouth felt too dry. He stared at the surface of the desk, begging his attention to catch on anything - _ anything _ \- else.

_ "-final is gonna kill me-" _

_ "-Cherry cheated on him with-" _

_ "-have homework? I think-" _

_ "-pretty sure, yeah-" _

_ "-and Michael said-" _

_ "-Juliet is a stupid play to-" _

"Virgil?"

_ "-suck out my soul so I didn't have to-" _

_ "-game? I think we played pretty-" _

_ "-lecture is so boring-" _

_ "-this class for the easy A-" _

"Virgil!" A hand fell on Virgil's shoulder and he startled back to the present, the voices tuning low once again as he focused on the weight.

Oh- oh, that was Remy.

"Huh?" Virgil asked hoarsely. Remy bit his lip.

"Yeah, no, we aren't doing this today," Remy proclaimed. He leaned over to a girl sitting in front of him and slipped her a scrap of paper. "Can you send today's notes to this number please? We're heading out for the day, not feeling so hot. Thanks, babes!"

"Remy, I can't  _ leave _ ," Virgil hissed. "I have an obligation."

"An obligation you can fulfill after having let this whole sitch settle in for longer than 24 hours," Remy argued. "Now come on, get up, we're going. Tell Professor Sexy we're heading out."

"Gross, Remy, he looks like he could be your  _ dad _ ," Virgil grimaced.

"I'm over three hundred, gurl," Remy reminded. "My dad looks like an unliving corpse."

"Whatever, you get what I mean," Virgil huffed, as he packed up his things. Remy was going to keep insisting, and Virgil had a bit of a headache now anyway. Besides, he felt too exposed here. Remy led the way to Professor Sanders' desk, who looked up curiously from his lesson plan.

"Is everything alright?" Professor Sanders asked.

"No, this one had a panic attack, I think. We're gonna head home, that guchi? Thanks," Remy said, and he began to leave, taking Virgil with him.

"Hang on!" Professor Sanders called, grabbing Virgil by the wrist. Virgil stiffened and turned to his teacher. "If you  _ ever _ need protection, Virgil, I know some wards that hide things from scrying eyes."

"Thank you, but we have a witch for that," Remy snapped, glaring at Professor Sanders' hand on Virgil's sleeve. Professor Sanders pulled away, looking a tad sheepish.

"Sorry. I just meant, I know a ward specifically designed to hide djinn," Professor Sanders explained.

Remy hissed, and Virgil recoiled. "How did you-"

"I hope Patton is well? I saw you have his lamp now in the register," Professor Sanders explained, his voice low. Virgil's heart sank. He forgot that anyone could see that he was in the register.

"He's fine," Remy snapped. "We'll be going now."

"I trust you, Virgil. I hope you can trust me in return," Professor Sanders said, a smile on his face. Virgil barely nodded before Remy was whisking him out of his teacher's view.

* * *

D studied his face in the mirror, carefully studying his own unmarred features. He huffed a sigh. Everything his mother had done to him since he'd sent away Pat- the lamp had vanished. He stepped back, trying to get a good look at his own soul.

Same as ever, it swirled with tentative, suspicious strokes, the soul of a witch who never learned to trust. At least, not until he’d met P- been given that lamp.

"You had better be safe," D whispered to no one. "Wherever you are. I refuse to be hurting you."

He could imagine the response, an indignant insistence that D would never hurt him. He smiled.

The door opened without any warning and the smile slid off of D's face.

"I thought I was useless," D called. "Even for torture, as Mother learned the hard way."

"She's decided to try to get rid of you," Father's voice was tight and controlled, but D could hear the waver he was trying to hide.

"Try, huh?" D snorted, and he began to walk, slowly coming towards the table in the center of the room. Father shut the door behind him, and it locked. D did a flourish as he sat in his chair, as if he were wearing a tailcoat or a shirt and had to tuck it aside first. He was wearing neither, of course. Father slid into the chair opposite him like someone -probably Mother if anyone- had slid a pole up his ass. D smirked, tilting his head. "How does she want me killed, then?"

Father hesitated further, and D could see the most amount of emotion in his eyes ever. He looked conflicted, his eyes swirling. "She demands you drink this."

A thermos was slid across the table, carefully handled with gloves and a small rag. D snorted.

"Only my fingerprints will be on it, then. You don't plan on reporting my death as a magical crime, just a regular old suicide," D said, scathing and bitter.

"Dorian," Father started.

"Own up to your own guilt, Father, you're asking me to willingly ingest something that will probably kill me," D snapped. "I refuse."

"She anticipated your refusal," Father said. He slid a picture across the table. "This is a picture of the man who has your lamp."

D studied the photograph, his heart in his throat. It depicted a young man looking over his shoulder towards the camera, missing it but obviously looking for it. Another man was walking beside him, arm protective around his shoulders and a crimson eyes just barely visible in the profile of his face. The young man's face was eerily familiar, and D's blood was going cold. "What is her threat?"

"She won't refrain from going after him, he still has things she wants from him. But if you cooperate, she will leave him alive when she is done," Father said, and D looked up to see tears in his eyes. D smirked, covering the ice he still felt in his veins.

"Afraid I'll comply, Father?" D asked.

Father allowed a nod. "Yes."

"Why? You've never cared," D reminded pointedly.

"I have," Father argued. "I haven't ever shown it, but I care about you."

"You're pretty shit at caring, then," D snapped. "What's in the thermos?"

Father looked utterly heartbroken. "I don't know."

"I see," D said, and he grabbed the thermos, weighing it in his hands. For something deadly, it wasn't all that heavy.

"You're my third child with Elizabeth," Father blurted out. D looked at him, brows raised. "If she killed you too, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"Leaving her might be a good start," D scowled, as he popped open the thermos and put it to his lips. Father reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Please don't," Father pleaded.

"I'm not here to make up for how  _ you _ endangered your own children," D spat. "I'm not Lydia, and I'm not Winston. I'm not even Dorian, that name has never meant anything to me."

"But you are my son," Father begged.

"And what did that mean to you yesterday? Or last week? Or last month? What did that mean to you when Mother sent her  _ army _ after me?" D sneered. Tears fell freely down Father's face.

"There was still a chance-"

"No, there was no chance for us to be a family. There never was. Mother doesn't see me as her child, she sees me as her pawn," D scowled. He lowered his hand and set the thermos back on the table. "Thank you for the name. And my life. But I choose to do with it what I please. And I refuse to let anyone else be hurt, especially V."

"She can't even find him," Father said desperately. D narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"He's protected by soul wards, she's been looking for him since his name popped up on the register. He only appeared to her today, at the local college before disappearing again," Father explained.

"Why are you telling me this?" D asked.

"Because you don't need to protect him," Father said. "He's safe, and so is your genie."

"What's his name?" D asked.

Father wiped at his face with his other hand, the one that wasn't still clinging to D's sleeve. "Virgil Adams. The living son of that thief your mother found dead."

D looked down at the photo, remembering the boy he met when he was fourteen, the boy who changed his life forever. He'd grown up, and his cheeks had filled out. He had support now. People were protecting him. That was good, but for some reason it made the pit of his stomach drop. He brought the thermos to his mouth and swallowed.

Immediately the sting of some chemical where it shouldn't be had his mouth and throat burning. He could taste blood, but as he coughed nothing came out except for baby blue smoke that curled around his lips. He grimaced as the pain suddenly began to ease, baby blue smoke puffing out of his nose and mouth as he took heavy breaths. He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You’ll have to try again another time. Poison won’t kill me.”

“Dorian-”

“That’s  _ not _ my name,” D snapped, and he slid the thermos towards his father sharply, taking a deep steadying breath. “And tell Mother to leave innocent lives  _ out  _ of our family disputes.”

Father was shaking as he stood up, taking the thermos with him. He left the room, leaving the photograph and his son whom he supposedly cared for behind. D scowled, but he took the photo and studied it. He chuckled, remnants of the baby blue healing smoke puffing between his lips.

“Thank you, Patton.”


	8. Self Reliance, Trust, and Everything Inbetween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil decides that he should stick to his guns and continue to make poor decisions just because at least they're HIS decisions. Patton and Roman are convinced. Logan doesn't exactly argue.  
> D remembers a pivotal experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been six months!! Hiya papayas, sorry about the long wait! If you're subscribed and got this chaoter linked into an email, please reread and get a refresher, because geezus that's a long time.  
> This chapter was hard to write, I think I scrapped it three or four times? It was almost done back in October, but I took a break to bust out my 30,000 word fic I wanted to write for Logan's birthday, and I tried to take a break after that.  
> I posted some updates that were almost done, but I never managed to finish this one up before the holiday anxiety started to make writing in general hard. I'm not going to make excuses though, because I bet y'all will just be happy to know the fic isn't dead. (Just REALLY REALLY SLOW.)

After the debacle at class, Remy had taken him to his apartment and made him pack a bag. Virgil had tried to refuse, but Remy had pulled the living bond shit on him again, red glowing eyes and all. Virgil had spent the entire time packing thinking about what Professor Sanders had said. A sigil to hide djinn. It wouldn't hide him, but it would hide the others.

How long had it been since they'd seen the world? Had Patton even gotten to explore while with D? Roman and Logan hadn't been around since before the  _ register _ . What would it be like for them? To see the world in all it's beauty? And, admittedly, all its flaws. Virgil wanted to give them a chance to see it.

So, that evening while Remy was out and Emile was sleeping, Virgil emptied his bag of his blanket and grabbed the nearest lamp.

“You really better not be planning to shove us in there willy nilly,” Roman scowled, floating in the air, crimson smoke unfurling around him.

“Do you  _ mind _ , I don’t have the time to worry about that shit. It’s not like it hurts you if your lamp gets a little dinged up,” Virgil argued, keeping his voice as low as possible.

“No, but I have standards to uphold! I’ve toppled empires and turned men into  _ kings _ , I deserve better than to be  _ brutalized _ by a human who doesn’t even know what he’s doing with his djinn!” Roman huffed, folding his arms petulantly. Virgil rolled his eyes, pulling out one of his shirts and wrapping it around the lamp before pointedly looking at Roman.

“Is that better?” Virgil asked, slipping the protected lamp into his bag. Roman sniffed.

“I suppose if these are the best available accommodations, I can’t exactly complain,” Roman said.

“How magnanimous of you,” Virgil said dryly.

“Are we really going?” Patton asked, looking worriedly between Virgil and his duffle bag.

“Yes,” Virgil declared. He grabbed Patton’s lamp and began to wrap it more carefully in another of his shirts. “I know it’s dangerous to be wandering around, but- I’m not just gonna sit here and stay put like a houseplant.”

“These people care for you,” Logan pointed out, and he drifted over from the bookshelf, nothing in hand. “Wouldn’t they worry?”

“They’re gonna worry no matter what we do. And if we actively look, then we’ll increase our chances of finding D before witches find me, right?” Virgil asked, trying to appeal to the third djinn’s sense of practical efficiency.

“In most cases, perhaps,” Logan agreed. But he shook his head. “In this case, I feel you may be placing yourself in unnecessary danger if you go out now.”

“No one is going to make me sit on my thumbs and wait for shit to happen for me. I haven’t been a passenger in my own life since I was a kid, and I refuse to go back to those days. I’m so tired of things  _ happening to me _ \- I’m going to  _ make _ things happen,” Virgil declared. All three djinn looked at him with shocked expressions. Virgil just raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I… agree,” Roman said tentatively. “I don’t want to just let other people’s actions control my life. I’m a djinn, yes, but I’m also a person.”

“Same here,” Patton said. “The best part about being with D was being my own person. He asked me what I wanted just as much as I asked him- and he never made me grant him a selfish wish.”

“I can’t exactly relate,” Logan confessed. “I’ve never been my own person, not really. But I understand that it isn’t how humans typically live their lives. If this will help you and eventually lead to my return to my eternal studies, then yes. This course of action will be optimal.”

"Didn't I wish you guys free? How does that work?" Virgil asked. Roman and Logan both looked at Patton, who blushed.

"I postponed it. I can't  _ not _ grant a wish, but I can put it off for a bit," Patton said.

"I've never done something like that before," Roman hummed. "Is it hard?"

"I don't know, kind of?" Patton shrugged, moving his hands back and forth in a "so-so" motion.

"I almost forgot my time as a djinn has become limited," Logan said distastefully. "I suppose there's nothing to be done, the wish is technically already granted. It is simply on a timer."

"Ugh, who  _ cares _ about your djinn studies? What's the  _ point _ of studying if you never do anything with it? Don't you want to apply any of what you learned?" Roman demanded, and Logan went to retort, only to come up short.

Instead, he asked, "Apply my studies?"

"Yeah, like- go out there and use what you've learned to explore! To experience things! There's so much that humans get to explore and see and become! Sure, we live forever, but what do we accomplish in that time?" Roman demanded. "We raise an empire only for another djinn to topple it, all in seconds. None of it  _ matters _ . But humans… they don't only accomplish things by  _ wishing _ . It's the  _ wanting _ that drives them to their goals, sure, but they  _ do things _ !"

"And that is what you want," Logan clarified. "To be human. To…  _ accomplish _ ."

Roman hesitated. "Well. I can't waste the life my brother sacrificed to get for me."

"Wait, what?" Virgil asked, surprised. Roman smiled bitterly.

"I  _ was _ human once. Before. I was sick, and back in my day, sick was practically dead already," Roman explained. "My brother went to a witch. Or, he robbed a witch. I'm not sure, even now."

"Oh, Roman," Patton cooed gently, and he grabbed the other djinn's hand.

Logan hummed thoughtfully. "Have you accomplished anything, Virgil?"

"Oh- not really. I mean, I've survived this long, right? That's a good enough accomplishment for me," Virgil decided. Logan studied him carefully, before jotting something down in his notebook.

"To not have aspirations seems like a dull life," Roman muttered.

"I have aspirations. Don't get killed, and don't kill yourself are two big ones," Virgil huffed. "Look, you can spend our time together bugging me about how I live  _ my _ life, or you can spend it thinking about how you'll live yours when it starts."

"You have nine- sorry, eight wishes to spend. You'll have to come up with some things that you want," Logan pointed out.

"What I  _ want _ is to survive," Virgil scowled. "And I can do that on my own."

Patton smiled sadly. "You remind me of D."

"I hope that's a good thing," Virgil said. Patton smiled gently.

"It's a wonderful thing," Patton declared. Virgil flushed and grabbed Logan's lamp to distract himself, wrapping it in a shirt quickly before placing it beside the others in his bag. Then, in a brief moment of clarity, Virgil hurried over to the shelf and snatched a small frame containing a protection sigil. It wouldn't keep him unnoticed, but it would keep him safe from harm as long as it was on his person. He pocketed it and turned to the djinn, all of them still smoking blue and red. He coughed.

"Maybe stop the whole… genie aura thing? We'll already be vulnerable, we don't have to be obvious," He pointed out.

"You won't make us go back into the lamps?" Roman asked, delighted. Logan looked intrigued, and Patton was grinning brightly.

"No. Uh, you and Logan might want to do something about your clothes," Virgil pointed out.

Logan hummed and in a puff of navy smoke, he was dressed in similar jeans to Virgil's, with a black polo and a navy tie. He brushed himself down with a pleased smile. "This will do."

Roman pouted and thought for a moment before he spun around and, in a puff of his own crimson smoke, his old military outfit transformed into a far less stiff version that hung open to reveal a bright red shirt underneath. The worst part was, it looked like something someone would wear and claim they bought it at a thrift store. "I may not  _ like _ the military, but the jacket is pretty snazzy, no?"

"You both look great!" Patton cheered.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go," Virgil grumbled.

"Virgil?" Emile's voice called from down the hall. Virgil reacted on instinct and bolted out the front door, his heart pounding and his blood rushing in his ears. He didn't stop running when he heard Emile cry out after him. He didn't stop running when the tenant peeked out of their door, looking anxious. He didn't stop running when he fumbled his way out of the front gate. He didn't stop running until he was all the way down the street and around the corner.

The sidewalks were empty, but he still could hear the faint murmur of a million conversations. He felt a hand on his wrist and he jerked away, looking up to see Patton. Logan and Roman were close behind, almost skimming across the ground rather than running.

"Sorry," he choked out.

"No apologies," Patton said. "I know I need to ask first, I keep forgetting."

"I'm okay," Virgil said.

"You're pretty keyed up, for someone who's okay. You really aren't going to say goodbye?" Patton asked.

"How could I? Doc would just try to get me to stay, and you know Remy. He'd do anything to keep him happy," Virgil explained. "I didn't mean to wake him."

"It was probably my fault," Roman corrected. "I got a bit… extra passionate there."

Virgil just shook his head and began to walk down the sidewalk. It was dark, and late, but the three djinn that should have made him feel more vulnerable made him feel safer. Patton's hand slipped into his, and Roman walked half a step ahead of Virgil, his eyes tracking their surroundings. Logan took up the rear.

It had been a long time since Virgil had relied only on himself. He was glad he wouldn't have to resort to it again just yet.

* * *

Virgil and D knew each other a long time ago. D was a witch, so Virgil didn't trust him any further than he could throw him, but they knew each other. They didn't know each other's  _ names _ , but they knew each other.

"You really should stop coming by here," D commented as he found Virgil rooting through the trash cans behind the restaurant his mother was meeting in for business. His weirdly shaped soul had caught D's attention through the window.

"You aren't the boss of me, Witch Bitch," Virgil huffed. He was twelve years old and really skinny. D could probably pick him up over his head and he was only fourteen. Virgil really shouldn't have been throwing terms like "Witch Bitch" around, but he didn't know his name. D didn't want to say it.

"I'm not the  _ boss _ of you, no, but if you don't listen to me, you're probably gonna die. This establishment belongs to the Dragon Witch," D warned. Virgil narrowed his eyes at D and frowned.

"What, are you a snitch now too? Witch Snitch?" Virgil asked, scowling. Only the twisting of his soul gave away his fear at the idea.

D huffed and folded his arms. "No, but you're going to get caught regardless."

"You sound like a freakin' book. Newsflash, fourteen year olds don't say  _ regardless _ or  _ establishment _ ." Virgil climbed on top of a large wooden crate to open the dumpster.

"What would you know about fourteen year olds? You're twelve, a shrimp, and homeless," D snarked right back.

Virgil straightened to his full height on top of the crate. "Excuse you, I'm the tallest in this alley!"

"Only because you're standing on that crate." D wasn't sure that was entirely true even when he said it. Virgil was skinny and looked like a swift breeze would bowl him over, but he also looked generally  _ long _ , and D had never been very tall for his age. Virgil could very well be taller than him, even if just by a hair.

Virgil flushed bright red and scoffed, turning to the dumpster and lifting it open. The lids were metal, not the black plastic of some dumpsters, so they were much heavier. D could see Virgil struggling with them. He heaved a sigh and entered the restaurant, leaving Virgil on his own for a moment and darting into the kitchen, to the chef.

"I'm hungry," D announced, sticking his nose in the air like a bratty, spoiled child who knew all too well how easy it was to throw his weight around to get what he wanted. D thought he played the role quite well.

The chef glared at him. "Yeah, well, I'm busy."

She didn't say "the boss has me slaving over a multi course meal by myself on my day off" but D knew it was in her head. After all, he'd overheard the "owner" call her in to work when his mother arrived, panicked and afraid. Besides, he could read the bitterness at the edges of her soul.

"Working on a meal for my mother, the Dragon Witch, I know," D said, voice as imperious as he could make it. The chef tensed as she continued to slice fish. She didn't say anything though, merely waited for him to continue. "But I'm hungry, and if I say the right things, you can rest assured the rest of your short life will be quite unpleasant."

The chef swallowed thickly. "What did you want me to make you, sir?"

"Just make some extra of what you're making now. I'm not picky." At least, he hoped Virgil wasn't picky. He didn't imagine the kid could afford to be, as hungry as he probably was. The chef didn't relax, only grabbed another cut of salmon from the walk-in freezer and put it to thaw in warm water. D didn't feel guilty.

D refused to feel guilty. The little niggling feeling in the bottom of his gut wasn't guilt. If it was, then it wouldn't have dissolved so easily when D went out to present the meal to Virgil, and he watched the twelve year old try to suppress joy. Even as Virgil tried to remain skeptical, D could tell the boy was over the moon about the plate. D lied and said it was too bland for his own tastes, and pretended like getting the meal had been in his own interest. Virgil ate it all, rolling his eyes at him a few times between bites.

"I still don't like you, Witch Bitch," Virgil muttered.

D snorted. "Of course not."

Virgil came back the week after that for more food. D got him steak. It was a small friendship, barely in its infancy, and neither of them really ever trusted the other completely. Virgil never told him his name, D never told him his own, and the two continued on like strangers to each other. D had begun to expect Virgil every Friday behind the restaurant.

D was sixteen and a half on the day that Mother turned to him on the drive to the restaurant for her weekly meeting with the owner.

"I noticed your little pet on the security cameras," Mother stated coldly. D stiffened. "I certainly hope you paid for that food. I'm sure you know how I feel about leeches, Dorian."

"Of course, Mother," D said coolly.

"If I check the numbers, I expect to find everything accounted for," Mother warned. D said nothing, trying to focus on not giving anything away. Mother hummed and looked to the front of the car again, disengaging from the conversation. D didn't relax.

He went to the back of the restaurant as soon as Mother was in her meeting, desperate to know if Virgil was safe. The scrawny younger teen was nowhere to be seen. D waited.

Virgil never came, and when D climbed back into the car with his mother, she smirked to see the slump of his shoulders and the miserable tinge to his soul. He glared at her, the first shred of defiance he could ever have managed.

"You are a terrible person," D said. His mother's smirk fell in an angry grimace. Her painted nails dug into the skin of D's shoulder. Her response echoed in D's ears and etched itself into his memory.

"I am not a  _ person _ , I am a  _ witch _ . I am above  _ people _ , as are you."

D never knew Virgil's name, because Virgil hadn't trusted him. He had no way to learn if he was safe without his name. Mother didn't seem to know about Virgil's odd soul, so she must not have seen him beyond the security footage. But she had plenty at her disposal, and D worried that Virgil had been killed. He hoped Virgil lived, and had only been scared off.

It felt stupid to be sad that he would never see him again. D had  _ warned _ him, but again, Virgil hadn't trusted him. And he was right not to. Because how could D be trusted when he was the Dragon Witch's son? How could D be trusted when he let himself be ruled by laws made by  _ dark witches _ ?

Virgil had never trusted him because  _ Dorian Wainwright _ had never been particularly trustworthy.

D had long ago shed his name, and the identity, and the obligations that came with being a Wainwright. Now he was just D, barely connected to his parents, or his old life, and in love with a djinn that was protecting him from afar somehow.

And now he knew Virgil's name. Virgil Adams. It almost felt wrong to know it. He couldn't help but smile, however. Virgil Adams, the boy who helped him open his eyes.

"Please take care of him, Patton, as you take care of me," a whispered wish that would never  _ truly _ be granted.

And somewhere across the city, unknown to D, a genie squeezed the hand of his lamp's new owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will hopefully speed up story wise from here on out. Thanks for reading, and thanks for being so incredibly patient with me! (And happy new year, even if it's the fourth!)


End file.
